


Lock

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Holidays, M/M, Mistletoe, Open Relationships, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Meludir gives Feren special kisses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “Mistletoe” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/153917135000/my-holiday-themed-bingo-under-cut-you-can-make).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s late in the evening by the time his shift finally ends, and he’s glad of it—nothing ever happens along his route. He shot one spider down into the river a dozen nights ago and has done little since. Few ever even find the bridge that leads into the keep, save for elves born of the Greenwood of course, and some days, there seems little point to his sentry.

Worse still, it’s Meludir again that comes to relieve him. He can smell the vanilla-sweet lilt in the air before he hears the feather-soft footsteps. It means that he’ll sleep in an empty bed tonight, and their joining will have to wait until tomorrow morning before his next shift. Yet Meludir’s still smiling as he reaches the dark earth where Feren stands. Feren’s post is half-hidden in the shadows of trees, but of course fellow guards know of his position, and Meludir could spot him anywhere. Meludir comes to stand before him and gingerly leans forward, brushing their lips together.

It’s not their typical greeting, but Feren’s still disappointed when Meludir pulls away too quickly. Warmly lit in the orange glow of the evening, he looks as beautiful as ever, with his honey-gold hair braided neatly over one shoulder and his sparkling eyes crinkled with pleasure. His silk-soft lips are rosy pink and draw wide in his smile. But then he lifts one finger to those lips and hums, “No, that is not quite right.”

Feren lifts a brow, waiting, and Meludir points above his head. Feren follows to spot the sprig of mistletoe fastened tightly to a branch with a conspicuous red ribbon. He’d forgotten it in the course of his duty; no one had come buy to kiss. 

Similar decorations are all over the palace, and Meludir sighs, “I have just kissed _so_ many people today under the holly.”

“As you would,” Feren returns idly. “We are of the Greenwood: we are open.” And Meludir is a great beauty even by their standards, full of youthful joy and social cheer. Feren would be surprised to learn of anyone _not_ trying to capture Meludir’s mouth at least once with this excuse.

But Meludir shakes and says, “It does not seem fair that you should receive the same as even old Galion—am I not yours?”

“You are,” Feren confirms, just for the novelty. He still doesn’t know how he got quite so lucky. As much as he knew Meludir would kiss a great number during the holiday, it’s mildly disquieting to picture the king’s old butler crushed against his lovely partner. He tries to dispel the notion, and at the same time, Meludir ducks in again.

Now he tilts his head so their noses lie side by side and he has room to deepen it, his tongue poking out to lap at the closed seam of Feren’s mouth. He opens immediately and sucks Meludir’s tongue inside. Meludir mewls happily and thrusts forward, face digging closer, pleasantly warm in the open breeze, Meludir’s delicate fingers threading back into his hair. He lets his hand rest on Meludir’s slender hips in return, holding the rest of Meludir’s tantalizing body close against him. The kiss lasts for one breathless moment, and then Meludir pulls back and makes a show of licking his plush lips. 

Yet he still decides, “Hm... no. I was also blessed with Prince Legolas’ tongue.” A quick shiver of envy twists its way down Feren’s spine, though he’s not sure who it’s for. Meludir keeps his hold of Feren’s hair but ducks to peck Feren’s neck, trailing lower in a ticklish stream of butterfly kisses. When the collar of Feren’s uniform halts him, he sighs, “Oh, but I kissed Tauriel there.”

He straightens again and giggles, “I wanted to kiss King Thranduil _everywhere_ , but I knew it would not be right, so I only had the pleasure of his mouth. I trembled in his arms, Feren—he is truly worthy of his title.” That, Feren believes. His hands tighten in Meludir’s sides at the mere thought of lying with their king. He now knows how he’s going to spend the rest of his off-duty hours until Meludir returns to him.

Meludir makes a thoughtful noise, then suddenly buckles, slipping right through Feren’s arms and sinking to his knees. He stays at Feren’s feet, smiling up in a paradox of innocence, and coos, “I know: could I kiss your cock, perhaps? I have kissed no other there beneath the holly.”

Even as Feren’s mind screams _yes_ , he splutters, “You do not have to do that—”

But Meludir’s already leaning forward and nuzzling cutely against Feren’s crotch, his nose indenting the fabric and his lashes fluttering against it. He opens his mouth wide, dragging a damp circle before closing it to kiss the outline of Feren’s shaft. It twitches under the attention, and Meludir opens his eyes halfway to chirp happily, “I think it wants more kisses.”

Feren really doesn’t know what to say to that, but Meludir doesn’t seem to be waiting on an answer—he begins to unlace Feren’s trousers of his own accord and fishes out Feren’s cock with practiced skill—it’s already hard in his hands, made harder by the feeling of his creamy skin. Meludir wraps his small hands around it and chastely pecks the leaking head through its crowning foreskin. Feren fights to suppress his moan. He knows no one would begrudge him this, not during the holidays, not with such a pretty creature at his feet, but it still seems scandalous for two guards on duty. He knows he would still hear any spiders coming. He would snap to attention. Meludir’s little pink tongue swirls around his tip, and it’s all he can do to think coherently.

The next kiss Meludir gives is to the side, just above his fingers, then higher again, around to the other side, down to the base; Meludir even ducks below to kiss each of his stones, still trapped within his trousers. Feren moans a quiet, “ _Meludir_ —” But it’s too late; Meludir’s already opened his mouth and slid onto the head, closing his lips tightly around it. He looks up with wide eyes and a coquettish grin, stretched wide around Feren’s cock. Then Meludir’s lashes flutter back down to his cheeks, and he presses forward, impaling himself as far as he can. 

Feren watches with rapt attention as Meludir takes him to the base, pausing there to snuggle in, nose buried in his tunic, then pulls away again with a hard suck that makes Feren shiver. Meludir’s mouth is blazing hot, his tongue incredibly soft, the walls of his throat blissfully tight, and they spasm around him each time Meludir takes him fully down. Meludir sucks every time he slides up to the head and hums happily around it each time he descends again. He bobs up and down in a smooth rhythm that makes Feren’s head spin—he finds himself throwing one hand over his mouth to cover his cries.

The other drops to Meludir’s hair. He makes a fist of the glossy strands, tugging at the braid, but he can’t help himself, and Meludir makes a muffled noise of ascent, only taking Feren all the harder. Somehow, he looks even more beautiful with his lips stretched to their limit around a cock. Feren has to fight not to buck forward—he wants to fuck Meludir’s mouth mercilessly, when he knows his sweet lover deserves no such abuse. Meludir does a more than adequate job on his own. The more Meludir sucks him, the harder Feren gets, impossible though it seems, until he’s almost dizzy from pleasure and trembling, sweating under his uniform, longing to fill Meludir up—

He bursts with a barely-stifled scream, his cock spurting thick jets of seed down Meludir’s waiting throat, and Meludir closes tight around the base and eagerly sucks it all down. Each time his throat constricts, Feren gives another stream. Meludir swallows it all and still suckles afterwards, as though trying to milk out every last drop possible.

Feren rides the wave of his orgasm into a tingling, light-headed afterglow, made all the better by Meludir’s continued attentions. Meludir lingers around it, and when he finally pulls off, a thin trail of spit still connects him to Feren’s cock. Meludir licks it away and kisses the flagging tip, then settles back to wipe his wet lips on his sleeve.

He’s perfect; Feren wouldn’t change a thing about him. There’s a moment of contended silence, where Feren simply pants and Meludir collects himself, and then Meludir hobbles back up to his feet. Feren steadies him. 

Feren leans in for another kiss, still open mouthed, and mumbles against his lips, “You have likely not shared that kiss, either.”

Meludir giggles, “Actually, Prince Legolas did taste sort of salty.” Feren groans. Meludir laughs and nuzzles into him, while Feren contemplates where he can kiss this gorgeous creature to both fulfill the holly and return the favour.


End file.
